


Monsters

by nagemeikenu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagemeikenu/pseuds/nagemeikenu
Summary: Right. SO I heard Shinedown's song "Monsters", andyes, this is so perfect for Harry Potter I must fic it immediatelyhappened. It is angsty, it's emotional, and it's not fluffy at all. This includes death by drowning, and very depressed Sirius and Remus and very sad Harry. I wish I was sorry. I'm not :P





	Monsters

“Monsters”

_Good for you, you fooled everybody  
Good for you, you fooled everyone  
Good for you, now you’re somebody  
Good for you, you fooled everyone_

Remus had a very good idea what was going on in Sirius’ mind. He’d just confessed that he was a werewolf, and it was beyond certain he’d just lost his best friend. All that was left was Sirius’ confirmation. With bated breath, Remus reassured himself. He’d gone over exactly every possible way to be turned away, cast aside, rejected by the boy he’d grown to love so much more than a friend. Time would take care of the recovery process, he was sure.

_Leave your weapon on the table,  
Wrapped in burlap, barely able.  
Don’t get angry, don’t discourage,  
Take a shot of liquid courage._

The firewhiskey bottle felt cold, and somehow less than solid in his hand. Part of him registered that it was the sweat on his palms that made the glass feel more like cold clay. He tried to ignore the hope beating in his chest, somehow still alive, whispering he’s my friend. He’ll stay. Fear had his mind saying, _No he won’t. No one will be your friend, you’re exactly what people should avoid, everything people shame and nothing people love._ The tears pricked his eyes, but he was determined not to cry. He’d come to terms with it, right? There was no need to embarrass himself further. The plan was to stare at the stone wall in front of him, watching the light from the common room’s fire dance over the crevices and cracks until Sirius finally spoke, finally pushed him away. He was desperate to get on with it, just to finally have it all said and done. His fingers loosened on the bottle, and he forced them to tighten again, forced his arm to lift the bottle to his lips and then to swallow the last of the burning liquid.

_‘Cause my monsters are real,  
And they’re trained how to kill._

“You think,” Sirius’ voice finally shoved silence aside, “you really think I’m going to stop being your friend.” That was it. Remus had to process the notion that he hadn’t outright left.  
“It…it would likely be best,” Remus said softly, because his friend deserved the truth.  
“Fuck that,” Sirius dismissed it immediately.  
“What?”  
“You think the worst I could face is you in the full moon?” Remus could see now that Sirius was angry. It wasn’t how he’d predicted it at all.  
“I could kill someone,” Remus told him. He couldn’t believe how hollow he sounded.  
“I know murderers, Remus. I know trained killers,” Sirius drank from his own bottle, “You are not one of them. You never could be.” And that was that.

_And there’s no coming back,  
And they just laugh at how I feel.  
And these monsters can fly,  
And they’ll never say die,  
And if there’s no going back,  
If I get trapped, I’ll never heal,  
Yeah, my monsters are real._

Sirius stared at his brother’s forearm. The skull was staring back, the snake writhing out of its mouth as if to taunt him.  
“It’s my choice, Sirius.”  
“Like hell. Like you haven’t been groomed for this since birth!” He finally looked at Regulus in the eyes.  
“If I was, so were you. That doesn’t wash.”  
“Why do you think I’m the way I am?” Sirius was petrified that he couldn’t make the other boy see reason.  
“What?” The furrowed brows gave Sirius hope.  
“Do you see what they’ll do? What they’ve been doing all along?” Sirius fought the urge to shake his brother, “Can you put it together? Once they don’t need you—you’re done.”  
“They’ll always need me,” Regulus had the gall to laugh, “I’m the heir to the Black fortune and heritage.”  
“And there isn’t another way to get that oh-so- _lovely_ heritage? They could just kill you, Reg. Take it.”  
“You’re a fool, Sirius,” Regulus shook his head, “You think we have a choice. They’d kill me if I said no. This is the only chance I have to live at all.”  
“This is no life at all,” Sirius told him, and suddenly felt so old. His brother seemed so far away, yet standing mere feet from him. “You’ll find that out for yourself.”  
Sirius never spoke to his brother again.

_Good for you, you hurt everybody.  
Good for you, you hurt everyone.  
Good for you, you love nobody.  
Good for you, you owe no one_

The boy who became Death Eater Regulus A. Black was filled with ice. All he could think was that, for once, his brother had been absolutely mad—and absolutely correct. There was nothing he could do now but make something right. Maybe he was left with no one. Maybe he was left to do this on his own. Maybe he’d die doing it. Maybe he deserved to. He steeled himself and left the parlor.  
“Master Regulus, are you leaving so soon?” the voice of Kreacher halted his footsteps. A small light of hope bloomed inside, warmed him slightly from the blood that had gone unbelievably cold. He wasn’t alone, and this way—maybe, just maybe, he could fix what had gone so horribly wrong. If Kreacher agreed, the Dark Lord could be stopped completely in his tracks and made utterly vulnerable. If Kreacher agreed…

_Leave your weapon on the table,  
Wrapped in burlap, barely able.  
Call a doctor, say a prayer,  
Choose a god you think is fair._

Regulus was drowning, he could feel it. The air was gone, and the surface was now invisible. It was so cold, and there was nothing solid to hold onto that would help. Hands were dragging him down; mouths were biting his abused skin and clothed body. Somehow fangs sunk in past the cloth, and fingers tightened around his bones. It was the worst way to die, he was sure. There was so little he could do and there was so little light. There was no escape, no hope now, so he prayed. _Take him down, take him down, take him down._  
In the end, he wasn’t sure if he was referring to the Dark Lord or himself.

_‘Cause my monsters are real,  
And they’re trained how to kill.  
And there’s no coming back,  
And they just laugh at how I feel.  
And these monsters can fly,  
And they’ll never say die,  
And if there’s no going back,  
If I get trapped, I’ll never heal,  
Yeah, my monsters are real.  
Leave your weapon on the table,  
Wrapped in burlap, barely able.  
Don’t get angry, don’t discourage,  
Take a shot of liquid courage.  
Leave a light on if you’re able,  
‘Cause we both know you’re unstable,  
Call a doctor, say a prayer,  
Choose a god you think is fair._

Sirius was laughing. There were dead bodies everywhere, but he’d seen dead bodies before. Each one flashed before his eyes—James, Lily, the McKinnons, nearly every member of the Order. He’d seen each one, mourned each one. All that was left was irony. The one mole they’d never thought of—the possibility no one considered. It was too painful to cry, so he simply laughed instead. Even as his wand was snapped, even as they shoved him into a cage with robed, black dementors circling close—he laughed and laughed and laughed.

_‘Cause my monsters are real,  
And they’re trained how to kill.  
And there’s no coming back,  
And they just laugh at how I feel.  
And these monsters can fly,  
And they’ll never say die,  
And if there’s no going back,  
If I get trapped, I’ll never heal,  
Yeah, my monsters are real._

Harry stood in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by the ghosts of his short life. Remus Lupin, branded a monster, stood next to Sirius Black, the certified madman. James Potter stood next to his wife, tears filling his eyes. Lily Evans Potter stood directly to his right, with a soft smile filled with pride even as her sorrow filled the empty spaces. Each had fought their own monsters, and though he wasn’t there, Harry felt Regulus Black was a victim, too. There was another unspoken truth—sacrifices were not always seen. Some could never be acknowledged; perhaps his would become one. Even so, Harry had to face the monster at the end of the path. Those who stood with him, and those who didn’t, needed him to finish it.


End file.
